


Logical Creativity |ON HOLD |

by Jazer



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aversion to touch, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of past child abuse, Never ever mess with Brainstorm's inventions, Shyness, angsty with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:51:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazer/pseuds/Jazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus gets turned into a sparkling, much to everyone's dismay.</p><p>While everyone expected a loud, confident and totally arrogant behaviour, they get a complete opposite of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I'm not a native English speaker, so if any of you has got an advice, please feel welcome to give me one! This one is more like a prequel? I think. So please, no flames and let me know if anything is written wrong~

His wide open blue optics were shining from tears as he clutched his little servos on the grey frame on the floor. There was just silence around him. No bot was there to pick him up, tell him to stop his pathetic whimpering. 

He tried to stop.

He tried staying strong, he didn't want to shed tears anymore, because he slowly begun to get a blurry vison. He was shaking so badly as if he was freezing, but he knew he wasn't.

"Carrier..." He whined, hitting the arm of the laying femme on the ground slightly. "Carrier, wake. _Up!_ " 

She didn't answer when he was shouting and he was stopping when he felt his trembling worsen at that. The blue liquid ran down his little cheeks as he sniffled and hiccuped, but as he dried his optics with his servos, the tears just kept coming and coming. 

"Carrier, please!" He shook her the last time. "Please, I don't wanna be alone, Carrier!"

Yet he was. 

And the femme didn't move anymore. She didn't smile in that comforting manner. She lay there lifeless, her once red paintjob faded to an ugly grey color and there he was. Trying to wake a dead femme, crouching in her energon. 

There was a crack. The door slid open as the mech walked in. 

"Get up." He said harshly when those blue optics blinked up to him confused, servos still on the frame. "Are your audio receptors glitching?" He asked when he didn't move an inch.

"N-no." He stammered as those red optics narrowed.

"Then get up, ya little brat." He snarled, smirking cruely. "Unless you want to end up like her." He nodded in direction of the femme.

The mechling shuddered at the thought, looking at her again. "Carrier..."

"She's offline." The big mech said as if he was talking about a weather. "She's gone."

"But... _\--ACK!_ " He got picked up by throat and next thing he knew, he was shoved in front of that scary face once again. 

"G.O.N.E" He spelled carefully as the mechling let out a yelp, trying to catch his breath, kicking his little legs out. "You understand, you stupid thing? You're with me now."

He whimpered again, tears streaming down his faceplates again.

"Do. You?" He tightened his hold and he nodded frantically. " _Good_ ~"

He fell down on the floor again, sobbing quietly as the mech moved to the exit, glancing at him over his shoulder. "I'm waiting." He reminded coolly. 

The mechling took a last look at the grey frame, before stumbling to him, shaking as the servo fell on his back and pushed him in front of him. He didn't dare to look behind as he heard another shot being fired. 

He just kept on walking.


	2. Sparkling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never touch unfinished machines of Brainstorm's. Just...don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I forgot to mention I'm also new to Archive, so sorry! Thanks to Autobratty for pointing out that chapter thingy. I'm still figuring out how it all works. I'm also terrible at tagging and that stuff is still black magic for me, so feel free to guide me if something is wrong!  
> Thank you for kudos and reviews too~

_Who are you? Where am I? What happened?_

The sparkling sat on the berth, curled up, staring at everything but the bot standing almost frozen in front of him.

_Where’s Sire?_

The blue bot finally shook his head, pressing some button on the table, speaking to it. The door slid open after a couple of minutes while the bot was doing something on his data-pad. What exactly that was, the sparkling didn’t know.

 _What is this place?_ He frowned to himself a little. It certainly wasn’t the place he lived with his Sire, but it wasn’t the dump of his Sire’s femme either. It was strangely both clean and messy.

“Who…is that kid?” There was a new voice in the room. “Wait, what the frag did you do, Brainstorm?”

The sparkling looked up a little, feeling himself tense at the amount of mechs inside of the room.

“Well, obviously. I did _nothing!_ ” The blue one, Brainstorm huffed, crossing his arms. “He barged in here, messed up with the machine and boom! The next thing we both knew, he turned into…a  _sparkling!_ “

“…what machine?”

Brainstorm cleared his throat. “Unimportant one.”

“Brainstorm…” That was the grey mech, the biggest of them.

“Can we maybe, focus, on _him_ instead?” The sparkling flinched when he gestured to him, gulping at the looks he received. “Isn’t that the biggest problem at the moment?”

_Why are they looking at me?_

_Why am I here?_

“Wait…” The white one took a step forwards, before turning to the blue one. “Is that Rodimus?”

This time he perked up at the name, frowning confused. He uncurled a little, staring at them.

“Why, of course it’s him!” Brainstorm nodded. “He messed up my invention once again. May I remind you…”

“Okay, okay, we _get_ it.” The red one cut him off, moving in the direction of the sparkling. “Have you checked if he’s injured?”

Brainstorm looked at him, narrowing his optics. “No, Ratchet, I haven’t.”

The other grunted, but as he neared to Rodimus, the sparkling leaped from the berth, moving as far as he could away from him. Optics widening as he hugged himself, taking small steps back and looking for a way out. “Rodimus!”

 _What is happening? I don’t want…I didn’t_ do _anything wrong!_

He shuddered, stumbling on a tool laying on the ground and quickly scrambled on his little feet again, moving to the door he saw while observing the mechs before. He was so close. Just a little closer and…and…

A servo caught him and he was drawn back and turned around. His wide blue optics shone with unshed tears as he blinked quickly to get rid of them before they fell.

The  white and red mech raised an optic ridge at him, not letting go as he fought against the firm, yet gentle grip on his arm. “Rodimus?”

He stared at him for a long time, but the mech didn’t to anything. He just…looked. Why was he looking? What did he do? He didn’t even say anything yet!

Then the name registered in his mind.

“It’s Hot Rod.” He muttered with a small voice, looking away.

The mech frowned. “What?”

 _Was he deaf or something?_ “My destination. It’s Hot Rod, not Rodimus.” Even though it wasn’t the name he wanted to have.

“Hot Rod.” The name rolled off his tongue like something foreign.

The sparkling still stood there, trying to get his arm back, feeling a knot build in his throat when he couldn’t and suddenly the grip was gone. He almost fell back on his aft if not for his reflexes and he managed to keep himself standing.

“My designation is Drift.” The mech said as he looked back at him, making him frown. When he didn’t say anything to that, he continued. “Are you going to let Ratchet look at you?”

 _No!,_ he thought, taking a step back.

“Hey…He isn’t going to hurt you.” He blinked at the reaction, torn between offering comfort at the pulsing fear in his EM field and staying away, not wanting to spook him even more. “He’s a good guy, you know?  He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

 _Lies,_ he thought, but glanced at the medic who stood annoyed next to the big grey mech. Brainstorm must have left somewhere because he didn’t see him anywhere.

“No.” Was the only thing that left his mouth, stubbornly even as he gulped, as if expecting to be hit for that. Drift’s shoulders slumped at that.

“Maybe take him to First Aid then.” Ratchet suggested gruffly, almost glaring at Rodimus. “He’s better with kids.”

“I’m not a kid.” He blurted out to himself.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge at that. “Oh? Then you will let me look at you?”

He opened his mouth, ready to snap, when he shook his head, knowing how that kind of reaction could get him in trouble. One thought was still lingering in his processor as he looked at them. “Where’s Sire?” He asked at last.

“Sire?” The grey mech repeated dubious.

It wasn’t like he missed him, but If he wasn’t here, then where was he?

“Yes, Sire.” He stared at Drift who was the closest to him. “Is he here?”

“I’m afraid he isn’t, little buddy.” He answered him.

Rodimus blinked surprised. Maybe his Sire was sick of him already and that’s why he left him here? That wouldn’t be the first time he was left in unknown place, though this one was far better than the last one he was in.

He didn’t even leave any fuel for him.

Well. He looked at them. He was certain he wasn’t going to ask them for some. What if they laughed and say how weak he is, that he can’t even survive some time without energon?

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet, frowning.

So what was he supposed to do now?

“So? How about a deal, buddy?” Drift suggested out of sudden, making him shrug. “You will let us check if you’re okay and we will give you…” He looked around for something, before smiling. “Sweets? How about that?”

Well, he was hungry.

Maybe when they will get what they want and leave him alone? Though he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be alone again.

He lifted his helm, staring at the servo that Drift pulled out to him. His face looked patient too. And kind. And that smile wasn’t fake too.

Hesitant, gulping, he stuck out his own servo that trembled awfully and took a step forward, shyly ducking his helm a little. Suddenly that look in those optics was too much for him.

Not looking at him, he never saw that smile widen and a second after, his servo was took in another one and squeezed gently.

He was still tense.

But it felt oddly good to have his servo held in that way.

He unconsciously breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe this mech wasn’t so bad.


	3. Quiet Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hot Rod isn't a fan of medics. However, maybe First Aid isn't that bad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for pointing the grammar mistakes I did! It really helps me in the future and oh my gosh, I feel so happy you guys like it~ Like, I really didn't think anyone would stop by, give an advice and still read this story. Thanks ^^

_This was a terrible idea_ , the sparkling thought to himself as Drift stood up and he had a clear view to the rest of the mechs. From what he could assume, the red one was the medic. And he didn’t look friendly. Not even a bit.

“Okay, so this is Ratchet.” Drift was saying, pointing to the medic. “He’s gonna…” He trailed off as Hot Rod hid a little behind his leg, looking with distrust at the mech. “…check if everything’s okay with you.” He finished, frowning.

 _I don’t think goodies are worth it_ , he thought, already changing his mind.

“Stop acting, Rodimus.” Ratchet said irritated, moving forwards, when the grey mech blocked his way with a servo. “Megatron…”

“I don’t think he’s acting.” He whispered to him, quiet enough so the sparkling wouldn’t hear it. “I think that whatever Brainstorm did, it caused him not only to change to a sparkling, but it also caused him to change back to his self from the days when he was one.”

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rodimus wasn’t like that.” He snorted.

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “And you know that how?”

The medic didn’t answer for that comment.

Drift sighed finally, crouching again, making the sparkling step back a little. “You don’t want to, hmm?” He shook his head a little. “What about another doctor? Would you like to go to another one?”

Hot Rod pondered the question a little.

Another? Not this one?

He nodded. He doubted he’d like the other one anyways, but everything was better than meeting the grumpy mech here.

“I take it First Aid’s in a medi-bay?” He asked, receiving a nod in return. “Okay.”

The sparkling, seeming hesitant, followed him as he walked out.

Ratchet glared at Megatron, when he stared at him. “What?”

Megatron looked away. He didn’t dare to agitate the medic even more.

XxX

“Is that mech nice?” Stupid question, Hot Rod knew, but there was something about Drift that made him believe that whatever the other said, was honest. Something that lacked in his own life. Honesty.

The warrior looked down at the sparkling that seemed to walk behind him like he was some kind of shield from the outside world. “First Aid is very kind, Rod…Hot Rod, I’m sure you’ll like him.”

The red sparkling wasn’t so sure of it. Sire’s femme often said things like that and usually he ended up not liking said bot much. “Oh.” He mumbled, not knowing what else to say. Usually he wouldn’t even ask, knowing where asking stupid questions lead usually.

Drift stopped outside the door to the medi-bay. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” He assured him, sticking out his servo again. “Besides, I will be by your side the whole time.”

By reasons unknown, he seemed content with that. “You promise?”

Drift smiled. “On my spark, little buddy.”

 _I’m not little_ , he thought, frowning again, but gave his little servo to hold anyways, which Drift grasped almost immediately. The door slid open and they walked in. The size of the room made Hot Rod a little more nervous than he has been.

“First Aid?” Drift called out to him as the sparkling looked around, trying to keep himself occupied for just another minute, praying it will be over soon.

_By the way, where’s Sire?_

Hot Rod tried to recall the last time he saw him, but he didn’t exactly remember.

“Hi there!”

Primus, save him. Was that First Aid mech always so happy sounding? Wide blue optics glanced at the medic standing next to Drift, taking in his posture. Yet he didn’t say ‘hi’ back, just stared.

First Aid exchanged looks with the red and white bot. “You’re Hot Rod, right?” Still nothing. “Are you going to let me have a look at you?”

That apparently was the bad thing to say, because Hot Rod actually flinched at that.

“To make sure you’re okay.” He quickly added at the fear in EM field. “Just a normal scan and some doc-doc talk, you know? If you want, I can let Drift hold your servo, would you want that?”

The suggestion itself wasn’t bad, but the sparkling wasn’t really up to being seen as a scared, little brat, like the Sire liked to call him from time to time. He eyed the mech, stepping closer. “Just get over it already.” He mumbled.

Used to rough treatment, Hot Rod was actually surprised at the fact that there was just a tickling sensation that ran through his frame. It was in a way, really pleasant. _Is that all?,_ he thought confused. “Now, can you get on the berth?” First Aid asked, again with a smile.

He slowly climbed up, sitting and looking at him _. So that wasn’t all._

“Alright, I need you to tell me if you feel any pain. Like, any at all.” The mech said, looking at his data-pad.

Hot Rod moved his arms, shrugging. He wasn’t hurting. Actually that was the first thing he noticed right after he woke up. There was no pain. Like he was reborn. Which sounded stupid, so Hot Rodd quickly dismissed that thought.

“None?” He nodded to himself. “Okay,” He tapped his wrist with his finger lightly. “Will you let me look at your port?”

No, was the answer Hot Rod wanted to say. Instead, he tensed up, holding his arm out of his range, narrowing his optics. “What for?”

“So I can check if nothing’s wrong with you inside.” He explained. “It will take only a second, I promise.”

 _I don’t trust you_ , he hissed in his mind _, I won’t let you._

He never got away without any injury while attending a medic. He sure wasn’t going to let himself be vulnerable like that.

“Listen, Rod…Hot Rod, it won’t hurt you.” Drift piped in, opening his own port and offering it to First Aid. “See? If I can do that, you sure can too.”

Hot Rod snorted mentally. _Yes, of course, because like pit I’m letting you anywhere near my systems._

But he really was hungry and if doing so would provide him some fuel, wasn’t that worth a little risk? Besides, Drift said the mech is nice, so maybe he really, really was in reality?

Taking a big breath, feeling his servo shake, he exposed his port.

To his surprise, the mech plugged in for only a second and then he pulled out with a smile which left him staring at him in astonishment. “Okay, you mister, are in a great health.” He praised, writing down something on his data-pad.

Hot Rod blinked, taking his servo back and inspecting it as if looking for something. Yet, he didn’t and he lowered it to his lap.

 _Weird,_ he thought.

“Oh, and Hot Rod, could you tell me one thing, though?” He lifted his helm to look at First Aid. “You’re from Nyon, correct?”

Hot Rod tilted his head. “Yes…”

“Which part?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Actually he did, he just wasn’t too keen on sharing that knowledge with this bot. The higher parts of Nyon were considered the parts for nobles and they certainly weren’t one of them. Or maybe Sire’s femme was? Maybe Carrier…?

 _No,_ he shook his helm, gaze resting on his faded red paint, _don’t think of her. She’s gone._

_‘Carrier, wake. Up!’_

No, now was not the time to ponder on things like that.

He glanced up a little, seeing First Aid looking at him, before nodding and smiling again. “Okay, you’re free to go, _but_ ,” He stopped Hot Rod before he could jump from the berth. “If anything happens I want you back here, understand?”

Hot Rod raised an optic ridge. “Whatever.” He mumbled, looking immediately down and climbing back down on the ground, still staring a little at his wrist.

“Thanks First Aid.”

Hot Rod was too focused on what was playing in his mind to even notice that Drift finally turned to him. “Ready?”

He only nodded. What was left to say? Drift didn’t seem to mind that much, because he started to go to the exit, with Hot Rod quietly following him once again. Then he remembered. “Wait, what about my goodies?” He asked himself.

Yet, the warrior must have heard him, because he laughed. “They’re in my room.”

Feeling embarrassed, he ducked his helm. “I’m s-sorry…”

“Don’t apologize.” The mech frowned a little, stopping for a second, before resuming. “It’s okay, I did promise you that, right? We had a deal.”

_Why aren’t you punishing me?_

_Why are you so nice?_

Hot Rod felt himself tremble. What if he was going to hurt him because he’d say something wrong again? What if he messes up again? What if…

“Roddy?” Drift was crouching in front of him as he shuddered, trying desperately to hid the fact that he suddenly didn’t think he could control his breathing.

What if something happens? What if his Sire shows up? What if…

“Hey…” There it was, the sight of unfamiliar mech that was concerned for him for some reason. It really made him wonder why he’d care anyways. “You have to breathe, okay? Can you do that?”

_What if, what if, what if…_

“Look at me.” Hot Rod was obviously trying not to, but there was a servo that tilted his helm up and he was greeted with those blue optics staring back at his own pale ones. “You need to breathe in and out. Like me, see?”

Finding it silly, he tried not to. Yet as he gasped, he found himself mimicking him after a second.

In. Out. In. Out.

After what felt like eternity, his breaths evened and then finally he calmed down.

The entire time, Drift was looking at him and only now he registered that he also had his servos on his shoulders and he quickly shook them off himself. “You’re okay now?”

 _I’m not_ , he thought, but he nodded.

“You sure?” He eyed him skeptically, but the other just narrowed his optics, clearly not in a mood for answering those questions. “Fine, if you are, then we can go for your energon goodies, yes?”

Hot Rod hesitated for a moment, before nodding once again. Seeming content with that, Drift stood up and sighed, giving him his servo. A little puzzled from what happened a minute ago, the sparkling at last took it without a second thoughts this time.

Inside, he was really wondering why things happened so fast.

He left those quiet thoughts as soon as he got his sweets, though.

Those questions could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when you actually feel scared before posting a chapter, because you know you suck so much and you have readers that can point out every error you did. That. Feeling, guys.


	4. I am what's wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because maybe, just maybe, getting stuck on this unknown ship wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a long delay in updating, but I have occurred some unpleasant things and I had to somehow...deal with them and it took some time, so...enjoy the chapter though?

“So we have good news…”

“We’ve got good news?”

“That’s what I said.” Brainstorm rolled his optics at Ratchet’s dubious voice, tapping the data-pad in his servos. “So the good news: It’s reversible and I can find a way to change Rodimus from sparkling to his adult self.”

“And the bad news?” That was Megatron leaning against the wall.

There was a sigh. “Frame is not the only thing that got reversed to his sparkling self, but his processor also got it bad.”

“You mean to say, that Rodimus is now a 100% the kid he was when…”

“When he really was one? Yes.” Brainstorm looked at the data-pad in his servos. “He doesn’t act, Ratchet. He’s just…the way he always was.”

The medic stared at him, when Megatron smirked to himself smugly, then returned his attention to the scientist. “So we’re stuck with him like that, until you figure something out.”

Brainstorm nodded. “Yes.”

“Fantastic.” Ratchet commented dryly and Megatron couldn’t agree more.

* * *

Drift stared at him as he ate the energon goodies. Then, Hot Rod finally finished and blinked, looking at him, raising an optic ridge. “What?”

The swordsman shook his head and smiled at him. “Nothing, just thinking.”

Thinking, he said. Hot Rod abandoned what he was doing and just stared at him, before flushing a bit and ducking his little helm. Drift didn’t seem to notice or just didn’t comment on it. “Maybe we could go somewhere, hmm?” He proposed instead.

Hot Rod winced at the way he said it. When his Sire suggested something with those words, it usually ended up with him standing in a cold room, alone, with strange noises next door. He didn’t like it. That was exactly why the idea didn’t appeal to him at all and he just nodded slightly, remembering what happened when he refused the other time.

“Or we can stay here, if you want.” He added, seeing the displeasure in his optics.

The sparkling shrugged.

Drift sighed, trying again. “We don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t feel like it.”

Hot Rod was looking everywhere but at him, but finally nodded slightly. “So what are we going to do?” The red mechling asked quietly.

Drift looked around the room, not knowing what would the sparkling Rodimus like. He was his complete opposite. Timid, shy even and calm. He didn’t know what he would like right now, knowing that going out and socializing was somehow out of question.

Then a thought crossed his mind. So if he isn’t up for that, maybe he would…

“What’s that?”

He looked to the right when he heard the question. Hot Rod stood next to the bookcase, pointing at the data-pad that lay turned on. “It’s a book.”

The mechling frowned. “A book?”

The warrior walked up to him, taking the thing from the shelf and giving it to him. “Yes, this one is about Knights of Cybertron, actually.” He informed and was quite surprised when Hot Rod’s optics widened a little, gripping the data-pad.

“Those from the Golden Age stories?” He asked curiously, excited.

Taking in the sudden change in behavior, Drift nodded. The red mechling blinked down at the device in his servos, then looked more shy at him. “Can…Can I read it?”

This was the white bot’s time to blink, surprised. “Yeah, sure. If you want, but are you sure you want to read?” It was hard to believe that the sparkling wanted to do that, instead of playing or something else that sparklings liked. The thought that _RODIMUS_ wanted to read was quite shocking as well, because the adult him thought of reading as boring way to spend the time. At least that was what he said back then.

The sparkling nodded.

The fact that Hot Rod knew of Golden Age was really interesting as well, but if it made the sparkling happy, then Drift was all for that.

“Alright then.” He agreed, then looked back at the mats in the back of the room. Maybe he could pass the time and try to meditate? It was clear the sparkling wasn’t going to cause problems. “And if you need something, just ask, okay?”

Focused on the story and sitting on the berth, Hot Rod nodded, not lifting his gaze.

Drift felt himself smile at the sight of it and mentally saved the picture.

* * *

 

It was just an hour after when Hot Rod ended the book he was given and he raised his helm up, looking for Drift. When he spotted him far away from him, he thought for a minute he was just trying to put some distance between them; be away from him. Then he noticed the mats and that the swordsman had closed optics.

 _Meditation,_ he thought.

He knew what that was. He had seen his carrier to that, it was always relaxing for her somehow.

He stared at him, nervousness crept upon him, making him a little hesitant to leave the safety of the berth he was sitting on. What if the mech was going to be angry at him? His Sire often would get mad because of simple things, so maybe…

No.

Hot Rod himself was surprised at the confident thought in his processor.

Drift wasn’t like that.

Yet the anxiety was still there, because what if he messes something up?

Taking a deep breath, the sparkling slid from the berth.

If he screws something up, at least the worse he could get was a beating and to that, he was used to.

“Hungry?”

Hot Rod almost yelped when Drift spoke and wrapped his arms around his mid-section, standing and looking at him wide eyed. His processor was spinning from the temporary fright. He hated being scared, when his spark was beating so fast he thought he might blackout.

He hated being scared so easily even more.

“N-no.” He did _NOT_ stammer.  He didn’t.

Drift peered at him with one optic that shone with concern. “Are you okay?”

_No, I’m not. Never was. Never will be._

“Y-eah.” He cleared his throat. “Y-you are meditating, right?”

Drift opened both his optics this time. It was the longest sentence he heard him say since he was turned into a sparkling. He looked at him. “Yes.” He tilted his helm. “Want to try it?”

Hot Rod shifted on his feet. Was he supposed to say: yes? He wasn’t sure.

_Where’s Sire?_

He winced mentally.

The thoughts were returning again and he so desperately wished they’d just stopped screaming at him.

“Meditation…helps.” Drift continued, seeing the troubled look on his face. “When you think too much. It clears your processor, makes it easier to see things and…”

Hot Rod perked up. “…Relaxes your frame and helps you calm down.”

He was meet with silence and he ducked his helm, flushing. Did he say the wrong thing?

“Exactly.” Drift laughed, grinning. “You’re way smarter than we gave you credit for.” He admitted after a while and Hot Rod frowned a little.

Did it mean he was there LONGER than he thought?  Why didn’t he remember anything?

“Where’s Sire?”

The smile faltered a little. “You miss your Sire?” That was stupid question, of course the sparkling did. He was a kid on an unfamiliar spaceship, he knew no one and his memory was obviously fried. Who wouldn’t miss their creators given a situation like that?

Hot Rod raised an optic ridge. “No.” He snorted to himself.

Wait, what?

This time the swordsman frowned. “Then why are you asking about him, Roddy?”

The sparkling crossed his arms, glaring at him. “Why are you calling me Roddy?” That question nagged him as well. “You did it earlier and now you’re doing it again.”

“Am I not allowed to call you Roddy?” He asked confused.

 _You shouldn’t know about Roddy,_ Hot Rod thought.

“Did you…,” The sparkling trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I mean…,”

How was he supposed to ask about that?

The words just seemed to stuck inside his processor and he couldn’t force them out of his mouth.

“I had a friend named Rodimus…” Drift said slowly, watching his reaction when Hot Rod looked down to the ground, fidgeting with his fingers. “I nicknamed him ‘Roddy’. Why? Did you have a friend…?”

“I don’t have friends.” He blurted out.

Another heavy silence. Drift started to wonder if that was really Roddy he knew or maybe he was just basing on an illusion of one. Was It possible that the Rodimus had NO friends at all? That he was…just like that?

He didn’t press the topic though. Not yet, at least.

“So you don’t want to be called ‘Roddy’?” Drift asked to be sure, but Rodimus looked away, as if searching for something that wasn’t really there. “Why?”

“Because…”

The white bot let out a sigh. “Listen, little buddy, you can tell me. I promise to not tell anyone else, okay?”

 _Lies_ , Hot Rod thought. Of course he would. He could be a sparkling, but he knew how it worked; you tell them the truth and they go around telling it to others. That’s how he got in troubles sometimes. He got his hopes up, then he got a beating when his Sire found out.

But his Sire wasn’t here, was he?

Hot Rod shrugged. “Don’t promise something you can’t keep.” He said instead.

Drift grinned. “Who said I can’t keep it?”

The red mechling blinked, frowning and staring at him for a minute, before shifting on his feet. “Carrier called me Rodimus.” He said it so quietly Drift almost didn’t catch it. And immediately as Hot Rod admitted it, the images of her frame covered in blue energon returned to his processor and he cringed.

Weak. Stupid. Useless. That’s how he called her. That’s what his Sire thought of his Carrier. That’s what hurt the most. When they fought. When they screamed at each other.

Yet, she never, ever gave up. She was strong. Hot Rod knew what she really was; brave, caring, confident and maybe a bit brash – that was what she was to him, what he always wanted to be, but wasn’t.

And one day, she called him ‘Rodimus’ and said it meant: _the one who raises from ashes._ He never found out if that was true or maybe she was saying that just to boost his self-esteem.

“Really?”

Hot Rod’s optics looked up to him, bravely holding the other’s curious gaze. “And she shorted it to ‘Roddy’, too.” He added, a little hesitant.

Drift stared at him and the sparkling wished he could read his mind, because it seemed like Drift was thinking really, really hard on something important.

“And you don’t want to be called like that.” He continued thoughtful.

_Because I will never be as great as she said I will._

_Because I’m not good enough to wear that designation._

_Because I don’t deserve it from you_.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, Hot Rod nodded slowly.

“How about a deal?” Drift suggested suddenly and Hot Rod didn’t know if he should be scared of the idea that formed in the swordsman processor. “You’re going to let me call you ‘Rodimus’, and you,” He tapped his shoulder with a finger. “Will prove yourself wrong.”

 _Me?,_ was the thought as he blinked confused.

“How do you…?” Hot Rod trailed off.

 _Maybe he’s a processor reader_ , he thought, lowering his gaze for a second.

‘Prove yourself wrong’, he said. And it sounded like he dug deep into his spark, found out what he thought and then wrote it down, as if it was something he needed to change; change as in ‘change his perception of it’.

 _Carrier would approve,_ he decided.

And Drift was looking at him, with this…this feeling in his optics that the mechling didn’t see in them yet. Challenge. And normally he would say that giving in would only be risking his life for unnecessary needs; that taking challenge was dangerous and he should stay in his comfort zone, like he always did.

But there was something, there in his spark, that told him: it’s the right thing. And he felt it too. It was the feeling that he was doing it _good_ for once _._

“Okay.” Hot Rod agreed, his pale optics shone with hope even though he tried to hide how much that word meant to him; how much it took out of him to agree to something like that, when he knew that he didn’t deserve to be called ‘Rodimus’, because he wasn’t confident enough, brave enough, just wasn’t _good enough_.

Yet, the smile that Drift sent him, made him feel better with this choice.

And feel that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to Goner by Twenty One Pilots while writing the last scene.


End file.
